


Reasonable Doubt

by illegible



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illegible/pseuds/illegible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's more than amusement, less than love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reasonable Doubt

He knows well what she's doing, and it isn't going to work. In some ways they are incredibly similar—both thriving in Gotham's shadows, aware they stand apart but also above humanity. Different shades of green. He gathers beneath the flicker of a gaslight, silhouettes dark and mysterious below computers working to cannibalize the stupid, the weak, the undesirable. She lingers in blood on a thorn, the dilation of eyes fueled by nightshade, those last gasps for mercy hemlock has to offer.

Ivy thinks he doesn't know what a lie looks like when she shows interest. _Stay a little longer, Edward. See if I can swallow one of your riddles._

She learns very quickly what kind of game they're engaged in. And he expects her to do better.

***

She has neither time nor patience for men, but seems to enjoy the attention. It's apparent in every wave of hair rippling down her neck. Perfect, precise. Her eyes hooded over a mojito, her legs positioned to look longer for anyone walking past. Pamela murmurs poison to all who approach then beckons close those caught staring. A trap for fools.

It amuses him more because Harley is _clearly_ the only one she'll ever dance with.

***

Edward remembers the night she took over Gotham. Cars sat abandoned on every road. Bodies littered the sidewalks—so dense their faces ceased to register. A little like locusts.

Occasionally he'd hear someone cry out. Plants ensnared any who got a good view of them. Those who were infected died happy.

He shudders to imagine Ivy wandering these streets, these alleyways. Most of him admires her efficiency. Part of him is terrified to consider she might actually be a goddess.

***

One night, she decides to see how much the rules can be bent before he breaks. Their booth is private, concealed by ice and dim lighting. Strobes whirl, heels clack, smoke coils tight around them.

Ivy reclines, satisfied with her own beauty. And the Riddler is not blind.

His teeth flash white when she pulls him near, hands wrapped around his tie. "Are you planning to cheat tonight, Pamela?"

A laugh ripples through her but doesn't close the space between them. "It's more fun when you know what you're doing."

***

Grudgingly, in the privacy of her own mind, she has to admit some respect for him. Edward lives for manipulation, twists the people around him into a web of truths and half-truths until they destroy themselves. It's poetic. But despite his so-called superiority, that sly grin, the suggestions she can't handle her pedestal...those numerous attempts to unravel Poison Ivy lead her to realize how alone he is. The Riddler turns to her hoping there's something more than obvious. Something secret. Something real.

And she can't help but find that endearing.

***

Robinson Park transforms her.

Pamela's smiles are private, wrinkling the corners of her eyes and mouth. She acts to impress no one—lets herself love without reservation.

Pity it's wasted on plants.

***

It occurs to him that while they're not quite friendly, nights like this are sending them in that direction.

"No, it's…damn it Edward, what was I saying?" Pammy has an awkward laugh when she isn't trying. It gets high at the edges, doesn't quite develop into a squeal. Being more than a little bit tipsy himself of course he cackles in return. They both sound outrageously stupid and it's the funniest thing in the world.

"I think…I think you lose Pamela. I'm a winner. I'm super…super-dee-duper."

She's practically _braying_ now, doubled over the table. Jonathan Crane's face as he passes by incapacitates them both.

***

His head is full of sound, the arrhythmic pulse of bass and heartbeat as she shifts around his waist. Anonymous dancers press and writhe like serpents and he can't breathe for the throbbing that might be a secondhand high or her or fear of death. Ivy's hand slides around the back of his neck, face fleeting black and blue as lights glide over them. It's so loud he can't hear himself think.

"Why?" was his first question when she led him down.

A smirk crawled into her mouth. "Curiousity."

***

He vanishes from the Iceberg when it's time to put his ultimate plan into action. Panic erupts worldwide. The stock market plummets, people commit suicide, crime reigns uncontested and on every station his riddle repeats over and over to no avail. Question marks are scrawled across shops, spay-painted on windows, fixed to every screen. It couldn't be more obvious he's having fun.

Poison Ivy watches with a vague sense of pride. Joker has nothing to compare.

***

One day, Eddie doesn't come back. There is no goodbye, no explanation, no apology.

Pamela doesn't know why she's so furious. Maybe it's criminal honor. Maybe it's disappointment.

The Riddler still makes headlines, still bothers the Bat, still unnerves most public officials. He seems pleased with his new occupation.

She no longer plays by his rules.


End file.
